


That's Debatable

by cloudsarefluffy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Based on a true class/moment I had in it, Bullied Stiles Stilinski, Bully Derek Hale, But also not, Complicated Relationships, Cute Ending, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski are the Same Age, Derek Has Feelings, Derek Tries, Derek Uses His Words, Derek and Stiles don't ever fuck tho sorry, Derek is a mess, Drama, Enemies to Lovers, FML, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Mates, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Stiles, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Phone Sex, Pining Derek, Scott McCalled It, Scott Ships It, Scott is a Good Friend, Scott is my fave rn, Senior Derek Hale, Senior Stiles Stilinski, Sexual Tension, Sterek Summer Exchange 2017, Teen Angst, Teen Derek Hale, Teen Romance, but also not really, it works out in the end, like there's angst but it's not really major or serious, the lacrosse gang are all jerks tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-11-22 12:10:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11379918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsarefluffy/pseuds/cloudsarefluffy
Summary: Stiles is known for not being a run-of-the-mill omega.He’s mouthy, stubborn, strongly opinionated, and he doesn’t appreciate egotistical alphas in the slightest. In fact, he’ll tell them exactly where to shove it— . . . if he could. Sadly, when you’re in a Contemporary Issues class at school with a teacher who loves write-ups, one must curb the tongue to some degree.Even when lacrosse star and alpha Derek Hale is being a massive asshole, and continues to argue with Stiles every chance he gets.----NOTE:I recently read over this fic, and there area lotof typos I need to fix.Some of you may or have read my author's note, but sadly I'm having laptop issues, and I had to finish this fic with my phone--- hence the monstrous typos.I won't be able to fix this story up appropriately until my laptop itself is fixed.Until then, I apologize for the various errors. This will be one of the first few things I address once I am able to.-----Written for simplysparklingtapanga and the Sterek Summer Exchange 2017.





	That's Debatable

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!
> 
> Sorry this is kind of short, but I legit had to finish this fic on my phone because my computer has been taken into Windows Update Purgatory, and I wasn't able to use it for the last portion of this. 
> 
> That being said, if there's any monstrous typos, PLEASE COMMENT! I'll try to address and fix them as quickly as possible. 
> 
> But, to prevent such a thing, hopefully, I used Grammarly, and it honestly saved my life because there was no way I could've done it all from my cellphone.
> 
> Like I had to HTML format from this damn thing. That's enough effort exuded by me from that alone ffs.
> 
> Also, funny side note: I had this story idea for a while because of my actual Contemporary Issues class that I took my senior year of high school, and essentially, this entire fic was based on a singular moment I had within it--- the cheetah vs. gazelles comic. 
> 
> These two guys got into an argument about the semantics of the speeds of both animals, and the cheetah's ability to capture the gazelle or not. But, it ended awkwardly whenever one of them legit said: "Well, _I_ would catch you."
> 
> The unintended sexual tension created from that being said alone is legitimately how this entire fic came to be. 
> 
> Not sure if it's a good or a bad thing, honestly...
> 
> Either way, I hope you like it simplysparklingtapanga! 
> 
> Enjoy!~

Contemporary Issues is like a gift for Stiles.

While others are merely placed here because it’s senior year, and a credit means freedom at this point, for Stiles, this is paradise.

Getting to tell alphas who think with their knots to shove it? To discredit social expectations for omegas, as well as the legal side of things? A place where he can debate and tear down opposing opinions with facts and his sharp wit?

It’s a solid yes. With grabby hands.

It’s not that much of a surprise. After all, he’s somewhat known for the paper he wrote about male circumcision his junior year. But, he’s mainly known for being an omega who thinks a different way and will let you know about it.

So, when it’s the first day of school, and every kid is groaning about, Stiles shows up to his Contemporary Issues class — first period, which means he’s been blessed to have it _every morning yes_ — with a grin on his face and a bounce in his step. Some kids are honestly taken aback by his enthusiasm as he picks his desk near the back wall in the corner, and they eye him groggily with either confusion or distaste.

But it’s alright. Stiles isn’t going to be in this class to please anyone. In fact, it’s the exact opposite.

And, right on cue, he gets the first objector.

“Oh god, _Stilinski_ is in here?”

“Jackson, so happy to see you,” Stiles smiles as the beta glares his way, choosing a seat that is the furthest from Stiles, which happens to be right by the door, “Tell me, how does your hand compare to Lydia after the break-up?”

Jackson’s face blotches up red, unlike the beta orange of his irises, “You little—“

“Bilinski, you’re in here!?”

Stiles smiles as Jackson sits down at his desk in silenced frustration— meanwhile, Finstock is frowning in the doorway, “Sure am.”

Finstock makes a quick motion of the cross on his chest and then sighs as he enters the room.

Oh, this is gonna be so fun. He can’t wait till the first assignment.

A lot of other students start filing into the room then, and thankfully Jackson has had some of his social circle join him, so he’s too preoccupied with them to really give Stiles an earful more than he already has. It leaves Stiles alone, though, he’s kind of used to it at this point.

He’s never been liked by the majority for who he is.

And, as if the universe wanted some cosmic irony for that statement, in comes Beacon Hills High School’s prized student— lacrosse Captain and respected alpha, Derek Hale.

Stiles groans under his breath, because it seems like the asshole circle is complete. Pretty much the all-stars of the lacrosse team are in this class, and Stiles has no doubt that Finstock pulled some strings to get so many of them on his roll call outside of the locker room.

But more than anything, Stiles knows about Derek. He’s heard things, and while they are rumors, he’s caught Derek in action.

Stiles has seen how he left his girlfriend Jennifer Blake in a broken, mascara-teared mess in the hallway. He’s seen Derek pull into the parking lot in his black Camaro and rev it a couple times, just because he wants more people to look at his already envied ride.

And, there’s that time freshman year, before Stiles presented as an omega, that he tried to join the lacrosse team with his best friend, Scott.

It didn’t go well, and Derek ran laps around them both with a smirk on his face. Stiles even fell and twisted his ankle because Derek’s lacrosse stick tripped him, and he didn’t even offer to help or do anything when Scott had to help Stiles off the field. In fact, all Stiles got to hear was his thunderous cry when Finstock announced Derek was officially on the team.

So ever since then, Stiles hasn’t exactly been fond of Derek Hale, unlike what seems to be the entire student body. Compared to the disappoint he gave to people, Derek’s arrival makes everyone in the class smile some, and Finstock even _cheers._

Well… maybe this isn’t going to be as great as he expected.

Ugh.

But maybe there is such a thing as small favors, because right after Derek sits down, Stiles is greeted to the best mop of hair ever.

“Scott!” Stiles grins, throwing his arms up in the air.

“Great, we have the wonder twins now,” Derek gripes as others groan.

Stiles normally would shoot something back, but he is too happy to see Scott— his platonic soulmate, he’s here!

Scott smiles at Stiles and walks in, quickly taking the seat by Stiles.

“Dude, I was wondering who would have this class with me,” Stiles lightly hits Scott’s shoulder, “Why didn’t you text me or say anything about your schedule?”

“Didn’t get it until this morning,” Scott huffs out an exhale, and he quickly takes a hit from his puffer before continuing, “The guidance office had to print it out for me. Otherwise, I would’ve called you first thing.”

Stiles shrugs, still smiling, “Eh, either way, you’re still here, man, so how could I complain?”

Even with Derek Hale present, Stiles at least has Scott, so there shouldn’t be any problems.

 

 

**-xXx-**

There’s a problem. A major one.

And, of course, it involves Derek Hale.

It’s the third day of school, and now things are finally starting to settle into the motions.

Finstock can’t keep dragging his feet, and instead of a get-to-know-me worksheet and a bare-boned PowerPoint introducing them to the class they already know about, he’s forced to start handing out actual classwork.

Which meant that, finally, Stiles was going to be able to do what he loved most— debating.

He was practically vibrating in his seat as Finstock announced the topic for the day: the average dropout rate, per secondary sex, over a course of ten years.

There was an article printed onto another sheet that is stapled to the assignment, and Stiles read through it rather fast. After all, he’s like a sponge when it comes to information— he absorbs it at a phenomenal rate.

And, one he was done looking over various graphs outlying the data and statistics, Stiles was ready to go, answering each question with quick scrawls of his pen.

He could help but smile when he was done, and wait for the discussion end of things.

However, that’s when his problem with Derek Hale arose.

“So,” Finstock started, looking at his own printout of the article, “What did you have to think about the outcome of this study? Why did more alphas and omegas manage to make it through this educational hellhole?”

Stiles raised his hand with eagerness. He was _so_ ready to school his class. He was actually looking forward to it.

But then Derek Hale just _raises_ his hand, looking smug and like he understands the way the world works simply because he’s on top of it, and of course, Finstock lets him go first because he is.

“I think,” Derek started, and people were turning around in their seats to hear what the big, bad alpha had to say, “it shows that more and more people are refusing to bond nowadays. There have been a lot of programs and preventives put in place to where an alpha could, to put it simply, Coach, smash and dash an omega.”

The whole class laughed and giggled at Derek’s words, and Finstock even chuckled.

It made Stiles seethe.

He held his hand up straight, gaze locked into Finstock who seemed to make sure to do a thorough sweep of the room before finally calling on Stiles.

“Well, _I_ think,” Stiles started with a bit of a tone, and he ignored the way he could _hear_ the eye rolls from Derek and his posse, “it’s because, while there have been more preventives put in place, that bonding traditionally has become less of a priority for the modern-day omega. The study mentions,” there was a small collective groan that suspiciously sounds like a particular group of alphas, “that there was a small questionnaire given to multiple high schools while they were collecting attendance information. From the last study year, over seventy-five percent of the omegas wrote that they didn’t want to bond until after college, somewhere around their thirties, compared to previous twenty-five percent at the beginning of the study. So, while things may be changing in the terms of ‘smashing and dashing,” Stiles made sure to send a quick glare to Derek before he continued, “there has also been a lot of change in the minds of omegas. It’s more so of a progressive development rather than anything suggestive.”

Finstock nodded, as did a few other students. Which, good, they needed to be able to think for themselves outside of Derek’s circle.

“Good point, Stilinski. But I’m afraid that both of you have valid points.”

There was a squawk from both Stiles and Derek then.

“What do you mean, Coach?” Derek asked, and he seemed a bit offended, “Stilinski doesn’t—“

“He does,” Finstock explained, but before Stiles could celebrate he adds, “but that doesn’t mean he’s won the argument.”

Which yeah, Stiles’ fire died out a little as Derek held his chin up higher.

Scott swallowed uneasily, like he wasn’t sure how to gauge anything, especially with the way Stiles gripped onto the edge of his desk out of frustration.

“The point about this class is that there are a lot of issues that involve varying morals and opinions. While you can be wrong when it comes to your facts being incorrect, but your perspectives? Not so much. This is why you see so many debates, so many arguments over these issues in politics. There is not a wrong or a right that is exact. You two could stay here and bicker back and forth the whole school year, but it won’t make a difference of who’s more in the right than the other.”

Stiles then looked over to Derek, and he met the alpha’s gaze. They stared at one another, and then Derek puffed up his chest, and Stiles’ gaze narrowed.

“Wait… No. No— ignore what I said,” Finstock urged from his desk after he noticed their rivalry blossoming, “Don’t actually try and bicker the whole school year—“

“But—” Derek started, and the entire class then starts to look between Derek and Stiles like they aren’t sure what they are witnessing.

“Oh god,” Finstock croaked.

“—the article also mentions addition programs dedication to sexual and mating education, as well as additional actions being put in place, like passing out condoms and other items out to the student body. Specifically, with alphas and omegas, there are new policies about things like sports and locker rooms, bathrooms, and other things in which there were high rates of accidental matings occurring due to exposure, and those rates dropped after those measures were taken.”

Stiles rolled his eyes lightly, “Sure, the article did mention that—“

“Here we go…”

“—but like I also stated, there were questionnaires passed out at the schools this data was collected from. They stated they saw a significant change in the mentality of omegas towards matings and alphas in general that showed that, despite these programs offering safer environments and alternatives, omegas weren’t wanting to be with an alpha in any way till far later than before. There was even a drop in unsafe sexual activity _outside_ of school, so it wasn’t just because they told the janitors to check the stalls every other five minutes that things shifted in a different direction.”

“Okay, sure, but—“

“This is going to be a long year,” Finstock sighed alongside the rest of the class, and he collapsed in his rolling chair, face in his hands and his body sagging with resignation towards his doom.

 

 

**-xXx-**

“It’s just, I don’t get it, Scott!” Stiles hisses as he messes with his lock, his hands vibrating from his upset, “What does he have to prove? That his knot is bigger than everyone else’s?”

“Maybe he just wants to show you it’s bigger by knotting you finally,” Stiles is wide-eyed as his friend pales some, “Jesus, you guys would _totally_ have angry sex too.”

Stiles gasps, shocked, “Scott! We do not discuss our enemies in such ways!”

His best friend shrugs, sighing, “It’s the truth, man. Derek usually doesn’t try at all in his classes. To see him actually paying attention to assignments, and making _sense?_ It’s just an oddity within itself, even if it’s just to try and spite you. Though I’m totally for the getting in your pants theory, like one-hundred percent.”

“Don’t mistake that drive for spite for— for such a disgrace you mentioned earlier,” Stiles huffs, and he stuffs his math textbook into his locker, “Derek hates me. Plain and simple. He’s not trying to— to _knot_ my ass, Scott, he’s just trying to _kick_ it. Verbally. Nothing physical being involved.”

And Scott snorts, looking unconvinced, “That’s debatable.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and doesn’t try to rebuke with anything this time.

Believe it or not, he knows that there are some arguments that are better left where they are.

 

 

**-xXx-**

They’re arguing over a cartoon of sorts. It’s something involving a gazelle and a cheetah, and it’s based somewhere within the issue of secondary gender wage differences.

He’s not quite sure, because now, he and Derek are just arguing over who is fast enough to either win or lose when it came to dinner, because maybe the artist’s interpretation isn’t as accurate as they wanted it to be.

“A cheetah can run up to seventy-five miles per hour, of course it is able to catch the gazelle.”

Stiles huffs, “Okay, but a gazelle runs around sixty miles per hour. It’s also able to maneuver much better than a cheetah could, and can even get out of harm’s way before the cheetah is even able to start running after it. I mean, if it were so easy to kill and eat them, cheetahs would’ve made them extinct by now, right?”

“That could be arguable, but we’re arguing speed here, not a way to avoid getting caught.”

The omega groans softly, “We’re arguing over who is catching who, and while speed is included, it’s not all that it boils down to. I mean, you’re acting like that’s the only method of survival.”

“It’s the most prominent. It’s even based in our secondary genders when there were cavemen, and even mating runs all the way up until the late 1800’s. Alphas would chase omegas, and the omegas would run. It simply came down to who was faster.”

Stiles laughs, the sound short and clipped, “While the barbaric days are a whole other issue within itself, you’re also forgetting about how many omegas, who were forced into the runs mind you, avoided alphas by playing with their smarts instead of counting on speed.”

“But, gratuitousness aside, omegas were still caught, weren’t they? Like the gazelles.”

Stiles shakes his head, “Omegas aren’t gazelles, though. If I had to run away from an alpha, that’s quite different with how it goes down.”

“I’d still catch you.”

The whole class reacts in various ways — gasps, murmurs, even gawking, thanks to Jackson — and Derek seems to gather what he just said.

“Hypothetically, of course,” he adds, awkwardly clearing his throat as he continues, leaving Stiles slack-jawed when he averts his gaze and— and is that— that’s _blush_ rising on his cheeks, “Not that— that’d I actually ever… you know, do that.”

Scott sends an ‘I told you so’ look, and Stiles promptly gives him the finger.

Derek’s nostrils flare at their interaction, and he steels himself some and even flashes his eyes in what seems like a challenge, “But the point stands. A cheetah can totally catch a gazelle, in the end.”

“Sure man,” Stiles ends up saying, turning towards the front of the room and getting back to their actual topic of discussion, “I’d wager against it, but I’m not paid enough like some alphas.”

“But in 2014, there was a—“

The class hunkers down for the next round, and Finstock decides to stuff his ears with his fingers.

 

 

**-xXx-**

A few months into school and not much has changed.

The class seems either relieved in some ways by their bickering, or annoyed. Because for one, they don’t necessarily have to participate, apart from writing their answers down on paper. They couldn’t do anymore, anyways. Stiles and Derek go at it in every single discussion— there’s no room for anyone else to try and add their own opinion as they go back and forth.

But, that does mean they have no choice but to listen to their bickering the entire class period.

Finstock seems to begin hating his teaching job more than he already did, going as far as buying earplugs, or this weird relaxation mix CD that Stiles has never heard of. Scott even jokes about buying him a mini zen garden, which, yeah, Stiles thinks it may be a good investment. He even considers making muffins. For the rest of the class. For _Jackson._

Because it’s getting a bit ridiculous, even for his standards.

Even so, he just— he can’t _stop_ himself from arguing with Derek.

Sure, the alpha is annoyingly full of himself, and it’s probably one reason he defends his stances so much. Derek is an all-star alpha who has the world practically handed to him by a lot of people, so someone questioning him on his view of it, especially an omega like Stiles? He’s positive that some of the defense is out of pride and ego more than anything else.

Though there is a part of Stiles that suspects there’s always been a rivalry in that sense, but even before Stiles was an omega. After all, he’s got lacrosse tryouts from freshman year as reminder.

Maybe Derek has always just hated him for whatever reason, and this verbal thing is the only way Derek could possibly get one in on Stiles without getting put on the bench, or getting in-school suspension for it.

Stiles is just at a loss, and there are some mornings now where he looks at Scott with this quizzical grimace, because sometimes Derek is looking at him with this— this _expression._ It’s one that makes Stiles think that maybe he got the assignment from Finstock at practice the night before, and he’s eagerly waiting to strike at the right moment to win his argument with Stiles. He’s almost… hungry, for victory.

Scott says it’s a look of UST.

Stiles decidedly _ignores_ that description.

But… others are starting to even give Derek a few of their own looks, ones of confusion and surprise. Even the goonies in his lacrosse gang are a bit confused as to why it’s continued for this long.

Sure, it’s great to fuck with Stiles occasionally, to rile him up and leave him to stew in his frustrations, but it’s a daily thing that even has _Stiles_ himself at a loss. In fact, they look at Derek as though an alien came down and abducted him or something, because this is the only explanation for him acting so— . . . whatever this is.

“I didn’t think it would actually be something that _continued,_ ” Stiles explains one day at lunch with Scott, and he’s poking at what he thinks was an attempt at chocolate pudding, “I mean, it was fun at the beginning, but now it’s kind of gotten… I dunno—“

“Old,” Scott answers for Stiles, and he steals a bite of the brown slop— Stiles doesn’t stop him, but he does make a face at his best friend as he speaks with his mouth full of it, “Look man, isss not de best, bu'h—“ he finally swallows, his spoon already revisiting Stiles’ tray, “I think Derek is just really, _really_ apt on proving himself.”

Stiles exhales, looking over to where he can see the lacrosse gang gathering at a lunch table all their own, “Yeah, but what is there to prove? To who? Derek’s already loved in the school. People rant and rave about him.”

“But you don’t.”

“Yeah, and neither do you, but Derek isn’t trying to argue your head off,” Stiles counters, “I just— why has he kept up with it? Not even Jackson is this dedicated.”

Scott laughs, his mouth yet again full of the almost-pudding monstrosity, “That’s because Jackson doesn’t want to bang you.”

“Ugh, you and this sex theory!” Stiles throws his arms up into the air, “Scott, I already explained this to you a thousand times— Derek _is. not. interested._ ”

“Maybe the reason you’re still debating is that you just haven’t figured it out yet.”

Stiles grimaces in confusion, “Uh, figure out what?”

“Dude, it’s so obvious. Like, I’m surprised you haven’t noticed,” Scott frowns then, realizing there’s no more supposed-to-be pudding, “Aw man.”

Stiles rolls his eyes lightly, but gets back to the subject at hand, “Noticed what, Scott? Just get to the point already.”

“Alright, Stiles. You know the whole term ‘pigtail pulling’?”

“Yeah, but that’s a stupid ideology,” Scott groans, looking a little impatient as Stiles begins to rant, “I mean, that just excuses poor behavior— ‘alphas will be alphas.’ If an alpha likes an omega or beta, they should just _tell_ them. They don’t need to do things like make the other upset just to— to—“

Scott grins, and he sips on his milk as Stiles processes this new realization.

“ _Ohmygod._ ”

“Derek’s been pulling your hypothetical pigtails since freshman year, buddy. I’m honestly amazed that it took you this long to realize.”

Stiles sputters, “But— but Derek was just being an asshole! He wasn’t—”

Scott snorts as he sees Stiles staring at Derek, the alpha taking his seat at his lunch table, completely unaware of the conversation they’re currently having, “Yes he was. I think it’s because Derek is a brute in the sense that he doesn’t know any better, and his maturity hasn’t progressed any _since_ kindergarten. That, and arguing with you is the biggest reaction he’s ever gotten out of you.”

“Scott, I don’t understand,” Stiles mutters softly, and he puts his forehead on the lunch table, attempting to ground himself.

“Well, here, let me give you a few examples. Of course, there was the tremendous debacle at the lacrosse tryouts when you were just a wee beta freshman year,” Stiles groans at the reminder, “then during sophomore, right after you presented as an omega, Derek broke up with Jennifer Blake out of nowhere the same day you came back to school, and no one, not even Jennifer, knew why he did that. Oh! And then junior year, when you wrote your infamous paper on uncut willies, Derek practically _begged_ Harris not to throw it away, and he missed _practice before the playoffs_ just to _read it._ ”

Oh god, is the world ending? Because Scott is actually starting to make _sense._

“But none of that ever got a rise out of you. None of it seemed to register, really. I’m sure there are other things too that _I’m_ not even aware of, but here we are now. Derek may cover his attraction to you with petty behavior, partly because of who he runs with,” Scott coughs then, and it mysteriously sounds like Jackson, “but in general, the only way you seem to notice him is when you’re angry, and I think he’s so desperate for your attention that he’s going to take what he can get. Even if that means he only gets to fight with you every morning.”

Stiles puts his face in his hands, “That sounds so _sad._ ”

“Yeah, pretty pathetic when you think about it. All-star and sports hero of an alpha, Derek Hale, yells at outsider omega Stiles Stilinski that he’s wrong, just so he can be noticed by someone who matters to him.”

“God, you make it sound like an ASPCA commercial, and I’m the monster.”

Scott shrugs, “I’m not exactly faulting you, dude. Derek should totally have gone a different route with this. I mean, he’s using the average, common way to try and get you to notice him, and you? Dude, you’re not like any regular omega. _That’s_ why it hasn’t been working like he’s intended, but it’s also because he doesn’t know how to do this any other way.”

Stiles then chances a look up, and he almost wants to be surprised when he sees Derek from across the way, already looking at Stiles. And it’s then that Stiles sees it— for just a split second.

Derek… Derek looks _sad._

But, when it connects that Stiles is looking at him, he schools it back instantly, and starts to talk with someone at his table like he wasn’t just the sore thumb of the group— like nothing is wrong for him.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah man, he pines so hard that you could call him a spruce.”

Stiles then looks down at his tray, quietly asking, “Does he— . . . Does he do that all the time?”

Scott looks over his shoulder, sighing as he must see what Stiles did, “Look at you like someone ran over a puppy with his own Camaro? Yeah.”

The omega then rubs at his forehead, feeling at a loss, “Why are alphas so complicated?”

“Dunno. It’s why I’m glad to be a beta, and that the most I have to worry about is my inhaler being empty.”

“If only I could say the same, Scott,” Stiles sighs, biting his lip and chewing it in thought before averting his gaze.

He happens to look back up just in time to see Derek spill his milk all over himself.

“Man, he’s _so_ gone on you.”

And for once, Stiles can’t find it in himself to disagree.

 

 

**-xXx-**

The next class period, Stiles does something he never expected himself to do.

He doesn’t raise his hand to make his point.

Derek seems apt and ready to make his point, arm raised with determination. He’s ready to go until he glances over, having to do a double take when he sees that Stiles’ hand isn’t raised.

Finstock seems at a loss, as does the rest of the class.

“Dude,” Scott murmurs, “are you sick or something?”

“I’m just… not feelin’ it, today,” Stiles murmurs, and he looks away from where Derek is looking at him with what seems like— . . . disappointment.

Derek ends up dropping his hand down, and doesn’t raise it for the rest of class.

 

 

**-xXx-**

“Stiles, you have to do _something._ ”

Stiles puts his head against his locker door, closing his eyes for a moment, “I am doing something, Scott.”

“You mean you’re doing _nothing,_ ” his best friend corrects, “You stopped arguing with Derek, and now he’s— he’s doing _this._ ”

Stiles peeks to see Derek shuffling down the hallway, looking dejected. He seems depressed until he seems to realize Stiles is there.

There is a frightening moment of eye contact, then Derek flushes, and proceeds to turn tail and run down the hallway in the opposite direction.

“I never thought I’d see the day in which Derek Hale ran away,” Scott huffs, and he turns back to Stiles, “Don’t you see, Stiles? He’s really out of it, and when he isn’t acting alright around you, he just mopes to the point where even _Jackson_ has come to me out of concern. Things weren’t this bad since you crushed on Lydia, and I had to watch _The Notebook_ with you because it was her favorite movie.”

Stiles cringes a little, “Okay, that wasn’t my proudest moment, but this is different, alright? Derek is just a jerk of an alpha, who isn’t happy with the fact that I don’t like how he tries to impress me with being an asshole. It’s not rocket science.”

“To him, I think it is. I mean, how do could he impress you when you declare hate him constantly and think that he’s nothing but an asshole? Albeit, I’ll give you credit on the latter. He can be dicky. But you, my brother,” Scott pats him on the shoulder, “are also a tough, complicated cookie.”

“I know that, but I don’t _hate_ him,” Stiles clarifies, “I’m just… irritated with him a lot.”

Scott watches as Stiles unlatches his padlock and opens his locker, “That’s understandable, yeah. But Derek is emotionally constipated. He probably can’t figure something like this out until he has someone directly tell him what’s going on.”

The omega turns to face his friend, his expression one of disbelief, “Are you saying I should _talk_ to him?”

“It would help. A lot. Derek would need it, and this can end this mess sooner rather than later,” Scott pauses, “But you’re not going to, are you?”

“I— I don’t know,” Stiles answers truthfully, and he gets what he needs to out of his locker, “I’m not sure if it will go all that well…”

Scott sighs, “Yeah, it probably won’t be a simple, ‘hey Derek, can you stop UST-ing like you just popped your knot, because we need to talk.’”

Stiles grimaces at Scott’s words, “You don’t have to describe it like that.”

As they walk away to their next classes, Scott shrugs nonchalantly, “Hey man, I call it as I see it.”

  

 

**-xXx-**

It’s lunchtime, and Stiles is picking at his food, his nerves making it to the point where he doesn’t feel like he can eat without chucking it back up.

Scott, meanwhile, is oblivious, because food is his favorite thing aside from Allison Argent, and you could probably kiss her and not have Scott notice if you put something to eat in front of him. So, Stiles is left to poking his mashed potatoes with his spork, glancing under his lashes towards Derek’s table.

Derek must be in a good enough mood today that he doesn’t exactly look like a kicked puppy as he looks at Stiles, and instead of staring, the alpha just shoots a glance or two Stiles’ way every other ten minutes or so.

He’s joking along with Jackson one second, getting a noogie from Boyd another, and in general, he seems rather happy and not as soul crushed as before.

“Are you sure Derek likes me?”

“Hmpfh?” Scott looks up from his tray, cheeks bulging out from the bites he took of his sloppy joe before he swallows it down to talk, “What makes you say that?”

Stiles sighs, and he decides to focus on the way his spork can stab his mashed potatoes below him, “It just seems… well, he looks like he’s over whatever it was that was bugging him about me. Maybe this was all just because I stopped arguing with him in first.”

“What, _no!”_ Scott shouts, and a few heads swivel in their direction, “Dude! Do not dismiss things so easily! You need to see Derek likes you—“

“Scott, please _don’t,_ ” Stiles tries to shush Scott then, seeing how Derek and his entire posy are eying them curiously as he lowly hisses, “They’re going to _hear_ you!”

Scott gathers himself a bit after that, but he also begins to whisper heatedly under his breath, pointing a finger at Stiles, “Dude, I wasn’t wrong! Practically everyone in this school knows Derek is head over heels for you!”

“Apparently, he isn’t, because he seems perfectly fine today! So how about we drop this and just finish eating our lunch?”

Scott looks like he wants to argue his point further, but at the more than likely dejected look on Stiles’ face, he drops it.

With a mumble, Scott even starts to poke at his food, “I’m sorry for yelling at you, Stiles…I just— I wanted you to see what we do.”

“Yeah, well,” Stiles sighs, ignoring the way that Derek lets his eyes linger on him for a second before getting back to his group’s conversation, as though nothing had ever happened, “I think I’ve seen enough.”

 

 

**-xXx-**

While Stiles is definitely proud of being an omega, and is not ashamed or silent about it in the slightest, there are a few downsides to his secondary gender.

Specifically, his pre-heat symptoms.

Thankfully enough, he only goes into heat once every six months, but there is still a time in which he doesn’t get so lucky.

He comes into school, bundled up because he feels like he’s getting frostbite when it’s only forty-five out today. He’s even shivering as he gets into his desk, huddling against himself as though he were a penguin trying to keep warm in the absolute frigidness of Antarctica.

“Jeez,” Scott says as he comes in, dropping his bag on the floor and getting in his own desk beside Stiles, “You probably should’ve stayed home today.”

Stiles only groans in reply, resting his head on his desk.

A few minutes later, a bit before the late bell rings, Stiles can only feel even worse as a specific person comes over to point out the obvious.

“Looks like Stilinski is gonna go into heat soon,” Jackson sneers, “Tell me, is your hand going to get your through it, or your dildo?”

Stiles is too tired to truly retort anything decent, so he just looks up, eyes slits because of how tired and miserable he’s feeling, “Jackson, fuck off.”

“You will be soon, though, won’t ya? I can already _smell_ it on you—“

There’s a low growl, and Stiles and everyone else jumps as Derek comes up behind his friend, “Jackson.”

Jackson pales a bit, and Stiles wishes he was feeling good enough to truly enjoy that pants-shitting look on Jackson’s face to its full extent, “O-Oh, hey there, Derek—“

“Go back to your desk. _Now._ ”

Jackson nods, complying without any argument whatsoever, scurrying away like a puppy with its tail between its legs.

Stiles is slightly gaping at such a wonder when he looks at Derek, completely awestruck at the alpha reigning Jackson back in.

“Thank—“

“Don’t,” Derek states, and his eyes drop to the floor, his voice soft and barely audible enough for Stiles to hear, “I don’t deserve that.”

Stiles’ jaw only drops lower out of shock as Derek then walks away, not bothering to look back at Stiles as the omega tries to process what happened.

He is still gaping even as class starts.

“Told you I was right,” Scott whispers as Finstock starts to go over the semantics of foreign diplomacy, “And to think, you thought I was just seeing things.”

 

 

**-xXx-**

Stiles gets a week off from school once his heat finally hits him, and he wakes up at a regular time that Monday, knowing that he won’t be getting in Roscoe anytime soon.

But he doesn’t exactly want to think about school right now, about all the work he is missing. It just makes recouping from a heat that much harder, but also, stressful.

His father has thankfully stocked up on Gatorade and other various drinks and snacks for Stiles, so he knows he at least won’t starve or get dehydrated while his hormones ravage him.

It’s probably the only comfort he has right now.

The heat starts slowly, making his hips ache as he tries to get everything in his room ready for when he’ll be too out of it to care, but it quickly builds within a few hours. Stiles sends a few quick texts to his father and Scott, just to let them know that he won’t be able to reply, and please dear god _do not_ bother him.

He starts to feel the usual haziness around noon, and soon, his hand is slinking past the waistband of his sweats, palming his hardening cock. It’s light stuff at first, nothing demanding, but he soon begins to feel the burning building and building in his inner thighs and hips, and he starts to become more tactile than before with himself.

A few noises escape Stiles as he tosses his sweatpants and dirtied boxers off, his cock springing upwards and leaking precome with its newfound freedom. Stiles takes the chance to stroke it hotly, up and down, shivering and hissing at the way the cold air of the room contrasts the heat of his grip.

It doesn’t take him long, but sadly, when going solo with your heats, the first orgasm doesn’t make one feel sated, so when Stiles comes stripes up and down his shirt, he can’t help but whine and feel his need grow.

Quickly, he removes his shirt, panting and now sweating as his heat begins to truly take hold of him, and he is getting on his knees, chest against his bed as he wraps one hand around his throbbing cock, the other going to his hole.

It’s pulsating now, leaking a steady stream of slick that is easily collected by his fingertips. He presses them against his hole, nearly crying out at the first feel of pressure where he _aches_ to be filled.

He can’t help it then, being so out of it and only wanting — _needing_ — such a thing, he begins to imagine his fingers as Derek instead.

The alpha will tease him, tell Stiles that he looks good while pliant beneath him— a major contrast from their clashes in class. He’d then take his fingers, dipping them down into the tight heat that is Stiles’ hole, letting the omega know that he was preparing him for his alpha’s knot.

“ _Jesus, Stiles,_ ” he’d say, breathless and hungry, “ _you’re this loose already?”_

Stiles cries out then, unabashed as his fingers sink several inches into his hole, each gained making him feel that much hotter, _wetter._

“ _So ready to take my cock… Are you that desperate, Stiles? Can’t take a point, but you can take a knot, can’t you?”_

Stiles moans, breath hot against the sheets as he exhales shakily, eyes slipping shut as he tries to _feel_ what he’s imagining.

Derek would growl then, and he wouldn’t try pacing himself any longer. He’d be just as needy as Stiles, if not more, and he’d start working his fingers in at a blinding rate.

Stiles manages to graze his prostate then, keening highly at the sharp bite of pleasure that the touch brings. Stiles begins to work his fingers even harder into himself, practically grinding down on his prostate as his next orgasm builds with ferocity.

It only takes a few more strokes, and he’s coming.

He comes down a bit, the hormones and haze of his heat lapsing for just a moment— enough for some clarity.

Just enough to realize what he’s done, and to feel somewhat guilty as he cleans the cooling come on his stomach and soiled sheets.

 

 

**-xXx-**

The rest of Stiles’ heat passes by, mostly a blur, but also filled with countless fantasies involving a very specific alpha.

When Stiles’ heat breaks with a final tug of his cock and Derek on his mind, his afterglow is quickly ruined by the realization and its weight.

He just spent his _entire weeklong heat_ imaging Derek Hale fucking him.

His cheeks burn as the last of his heat sputters out of him, and he resolves himself to a cold shower after removing his ruined sheets from his bed.

Returning to school is definitely going to be rather awkward for him.

 

 

**-xXx-**

On Stiles’ first day back, he doesn’t even look in Derek’s direction— he pointedly _refuses_ to.

Stiles doesn’t know how he’d hold up looking at the alpha in the flesh and knowing he just spent the last week touching himself and making himself come at the thought of Derek being there to help him through his heat.

Going by the way he’s already blushing profusely even though Derek isn’t even in the room, he’d surely make a scene.

Scott comes in like always, completely unaware of the fantasies Stiles had the past week, and the main star of them. If anything, Scott acts like Stiles wasn’t gone at all, easily going into conversation with Stiles about how Allison got a new cat and how he missed someone egging Harris’ car. Which, of course he’d miss _that._

But even so, Scott doesn’t bring up Stiles’ heat, which the omega appreciates greatly, because he doesn’t want to be reminded or be left to think about what happened during it at all.

It’s almost like he wasn’t gone at all, until—

Stiles is getting a pen out of his book bag for Scott when something is unceremoniously dropped on his desk, making Stiles jump and yelp in surprise.

It’s a folder full of various papers, and Stiles is wondering how the fuck it got there until he hears a throat lightly clear itself.

His head darts up, and he is shocked to see a shy looking Derek standing before him.

“I got your work while you were out,” the alpha tells him, voice quiet and soft as he twiddles his fingers together to calm his nerves.

Stiles’ cheeks are burning furiously, and he chances a glance around the classroom, only to find that practically everyone is staring at them both, “Oh, uhm… Thank you.”

Derek only nods, but he doesn’t look up at Stiles as he turns to go back to his seat.

Stiles watches him go slowly before turning his focus onto the folder Derek gave him, and he looks inside of it. There are tabs separating the stack into his various class periods, all neatly organized and together, and it nearly makes Stiles want to cry because _ohmygod Derek did this._

“Oh, he’s _so_ into you,” Scott says under his breath with a smile.

And this time, Stiles can’t find it within himself to argue such a claim.

 

 

**-xXx-**

After each class, just to be sure, Stiles checked in with his teachers.

Call him paranoid, sure, but he just— he wants to be _certain._ Because not only could this be a joke, Stiles really, _really_ doesn’t want it to be.

And much to his surprise and excitement, all of the teachers confirm that Derek did, in fact, gather all of his work for him while he was out for his heat, which—

Stiles may have swooned a little, in all truth.

Finstock was probably the only one weirded out by the development. He was even looking rather disturbed as he explained to Stiles that, yes, _Derek Hale_ of all people got his assignments together.

“I just don’t get it,” he had said after telling Stiles what he needed to know, “One moment y’all are both arguing your heads off every single second you’re in class together, and now he’s _courting_ you?”

Which—

Oh. _Oh._

And everything just starts to make a bit more sense, doesn’t it?

When Stiles gets home, he jumps out of his Jeep, a bit grateful that his father isn’t home to witness the weird teenage romance his son is now sporting around as he runs up the stairs and into his room.

Instantly, Stiles is flinging his bag onto his bed, unzipping it with urgency to pull the folder Derek gave him out of his bag. His heart is racing by the time he manages to get it out from where it's pinched between his math textbook and some of his spiral notebooks, and he sets it on top of his duvet, breathing rather harshly.

It’s a folder to anyone else, but to Stiles, it’s confirmation.

Confirmation he didn’t know he needed until he was three knuckles and a hand job deep into his heat.

His hand is lightly trembling by the time he manages to open it, looking at how meticulously the entire packet is put together. For fucks sake, the tabs are _color coded._

Carefully, Stiles takes all of the papers out, feeling both giddy and restless as he takes every piece of paper out to find—

Behind the first stack, there are folded-up sheets of what looks like ordinary notebook paper.

Stiles takes it out, unfolding the papers to see a scratchy scrawl written in black ink.

_Stiles…_

_I don’t know if you’ll see this. By that, I mean you reading this letter. Chances are you’re going to think it doesn’t belong with your work, or you know it’s me and that makes you decide to leave this unread. No matter what, though, I expect this in your trash can rather than in your hands…_

_But I felt like I needed to tell you somehow, you know? I can’t exactly talk to you at school… Jackson and the others don’t understand, and they give you shit all the time. I’m worried that if I tried to start up a conversation, they’d think I was trying to start something else, and they’d gang up on you before I could get a single word out._

_But, if I’m going to be honest, I don’t think I could ever talk to you because I’m sure you hate me._

_I’m best friends with the people who’ve treated you like shit throughout high school, and I’m sure that the beginning of this year and a few things I’ve done have given the wrong impression. I’m not faulting you for it, because I have been a dick._

_The biggest dick, actually. And I kind of hate myself for it too._

_Stiles, I’ve never meant to hurt you, or make you think that I despise you and have wanted harm to come your way. It’s always been the opposite, but every time I tried to do something, it would backfire, or the others would come and berate you and make it that much harder for me to try and come across like I wanted._

_Like freshman year, when we both were trying out for the lacrosse team._

_You probably thought I was being a dick, and maybe I was in some ways… But I remember running around on that field, trying my hardest to seem like a pro, all because I wanted was you to notice me. And of course, I probably looked like a show off to you, but I was too busy trying to get your attention to think about whether or not it was the best thing to do… And, knowing my luck, I accidentally tripped you during a play with my lacrosse stick._

_I went to go help you up, but that’s when Scott came, and I thought the worst…You two are always inseparable, and I thought you two were dating._

_It only got even worse when you presented as an omega sophomore year._

_I broke up with Jennifer then because I was beside myself. You— an **omega?** I just couldn’t process it, and I dumped Jennifer because the only thing on my mind was seeing you your first day back since your presentation, and I was going to ask you out right then and there._

_But Scott got to you first, and I saw him hugging on you and smiling, and you seemed so happy. And with him also being an alpha… I left before you ever knew I was there._

_And then in junior year, I heard everyone talking about your paper. The one you wrote about male circumcision for Harris, and I had to see what you did. Because if there’s one thing I’ve come to admire about you, it’s your knack for knowing facts about things most don’t ever want to know or hear about._

_I went to Harris about it, and he was going to fail you on the assignment. He thought it was highly inappropriate, and that it was a gag more than anything scientific. He was even going to throw it away and not even bother to read it._

_But I begged him, told him that if I could read it and not laugh, he would have to take it just as seriously._

_It took some time to convince him, but I managed to, and I skipped practice before the playoffs to read your paper. I loved every second of it, and the death runs that Finstock made me do as punishment were worth every word I got to read._

_Thankfully Harris thought so too, and after I told him to read your paper, he did, and you got an A on it._

_And then this year._

_I knew that you were going to sign up for contemporary issues. It’s practically **made** for you, and I knew that you were going to be excited at dismantling people’s arguments and proving them wrong with facts. _

_So, I signed up too, and right before the year started, when I was at practice for lacrosse, I asked Finstock to give me the syllabus for this year’s lesson plan._

_I looked up everything I could, and I always tried to make sure I knew the latest statistics and studies, so that I could prove to you that I wasn’t some dumb, knot-head alpha and that I could equal you on a mental field._

_And god, the first few days were amazing._

_I loved the faces you’d make, and how you would try and sneak in various things you knew outside of what was given to us._

_You’re just so smart, Stiles, and you would tell anyone about anything, and you’re not afraid to speak your mind despite the world telling you to do otherwise._

_I don’t compare to you in the slightest, because I can’t even speak with my heart…_

_I guess this is the closest I’ll ever come to doing so, and even then, I’m not sure if you’ll know about it. I’m trying to convince myself to include this in your folder, but it almost feels like it’s pointless._

_You hate me. You think I’m a jerk who doesn’t care the slightest about you._

_And the worst part is, it’s justified._

_I’m sorry, Stiles. For the things that have gone wrong, for my friends who have wronged you, and for the way that I have treated you wrongly. I’m so sorry I’ve done nothing but fuck up and make things worse, and you’ve had to suffer for it._

_Because if there’s one thing I know, I don’t deserve a lot more than just a thank you from you…_

_— Derek_

Stiles’ hand shakily covers his mouth, his eyes watery as he places the papers down onto his bed.

He stares at them for a while, Derek’s words echoing in his thoughts.

 

 

**-xXx-**

The next day at school, Stiles doesn’t even bother to stop at his locker, leaving Scott to squawk and run towards him, “Whoa, Stiles! Where are you—“

“Derek,” Stiles says simply, certain as he walks with drive in his steps.

Beside him, Scott’s face contorts into a look of complete surprise, “Oh, well uhm… I guess I’ll give you two privacy, or—“

“That would be best.”

“Good luck, man,” Scott breaks off then, shouting after the omega, “Text me if something changes!”

Stiles doesn’t stop, even passing Jackson and the others who stop talking and eye him viciously.

“Yo, Stilinski! Where are you going?”

Stiles ignores them, knowing by the sound of multiple shoes hitting the tiles behind him that they are following him, but he can’t find it within him to care in the slightest.

“Stilinski, we’re talking to you!”

Stiles keeps on, going until he sees Derek’s locker come into sight, the door open and blocking out Derek’s top as he rummages through it, unknowing about what’s about to happen.

“Stilinski!”

Derek hears Jackson’s shout and is instantly yanking his locker door back, eyes widening at Stiles steps towards him with such a sureness to his step.

The alpha quickly shuts his locker, his cheeks tinting.

But before Stiles can reach Derek, there is a hand grabbing his shoulder, pulling him back and forcing him to face the lacrosse posy behind him.

“What in that little head of yours made you think you could grow a pair of balls today?” Jackson sneers as Boyd and Isaac glare at Stiles, “Do you have a death wish?”

“No, I have a letter, now fuck off,” Stiles grits out.

Jackson looks like he’s about to tear into Stiles at that, but before he can even open his mouth, there is a snarl behind Stiles, and instantly, Jackson’s eyes go wide and he takes a step back from Stiles.

Stiles doesn’t get the chance to even turn before Derek is pulling him back just enough to slip past and stand in front of him, growling and holding onto Stiles’ arm as he faces his group of friends.

“Jesus, Derek, what in the fuck happened to you?” Isaac asks incredulously as he and the others take a few more steps back with what seems like shock.

“Common sense happened, now, like Stiles said, _fuck off._ ”

Jackson huffs, and the others try and gather themselves back in a futile way that makes them seemed unfazed by Derek’s sudden hostility, as all of the other students watch them, “Whatever man... Get back to us when you’re done fucking with Stilinski.”

They start to walk off, but Derek doesn’t move until he sees that they are finally gone, his shoulders slumping, and a sad exhale leaves his mouth.

“If you’re going to tell me to never bother you again and to also fuck off with the rest of them, I would—“

“What?” Stiles asks, caught off guard by Derek’s sudden melancholy, “No, no— Derek, that’s not—“ Stiles groans and grabs ahold of the alpha, turning Derek to face him, “Derek, I’m not asking for an unofficial restraining order.”

The alpha looks confused, and a bit hesitant, “Then what are you here for? . . .”

Stiles worries his lip for a split second, not missing the way that Derek tracks the movement, “I— I’m not sure what I’m here for exactly, but… I know that I want to talk to you. I _need_ to talk to you.”

Derek’s head hangs even lower, “Look, I get that my letter was really out of place, and—“

“Derek, please stop,” Stiles says softly, and the alpha looks at him from under his lashes, so shy for an alpha, “I’m not angry or disgusted or whatever it is that you think I’m feeling, okay? Just— let me talk first.”

“Can we not do it in the hallway?” Derek asks quietly, and it’s then that Stiles notices how many people are still staring at them.

“Oh, yeah, sure. But where would we—“

“Follow me.”

Stiles isn’t exactly sure what’s happening, but he complies, walking beside Derek and wondering what’s going to happen now because of the letter he has weighing down his pocket.

Derek ends up taking Stiles to the gym, but more specifically, the alpha’s locker room.

Stiles’ nose wrinkles at the profuse scents of musk and sweat, and he can’t help but grimace a bit at how grungy the space makes him feel altogether. He only feels a bit dirtier as Derek checks the space out, seeing if they’re the only ones there, before he goes and locks the door with a small set of keys he pulls out of his pocket. Stiles guesses he has it since he’s the lacrosse team captain, and that Finstock won’t be happy with such a usage.

But even so, they’re now officially alone.

Stiles has to wipe his palms on the legs of his jeans then, trying to feel less out of place and pressed as Derek stands by the door, looking about as unsure and wary as Stiles is.

“So, uhm,” Stiles says, and wow— such a strong start that was, “your letter…”

Derek hums in confirmation, but he’s not looking at Stiles, rather, something off to the side has his focus.

Jesus, this is so awkward…

“It’s not exactly untrue… the parts where you said that I thought you were a jerk and that I hated you.”

Which, oh yeah, that was a good thing to say by the way Derek _flinches_ and looks like he’s about to abandon ship.

_Stiles, for once in your damn life, if there’s a time to be good at putting the record straight, it’d be **now.**_

“But they aren’t entirely true—“

“If you’re trying to let me down easy, this is a really shitty way of doing it,” Derek mumbles, and he looks so pale and beside himself, “I know that I’ve been an ass, but I’d just rather you stop being nice and tell me that you don’t feel the same way.”

Stiles frowns, “Derek, that’s not what I’m trying to say.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say—“

“Can I finish saying it!?”

Derek begins to go for the lock, looking like he’s about to bolt when Stiles runs over.

“No, Derek!” his hand slots over Derek’s, easily pulling the alpha’s hand away from the knob despite the fact they both know Derek could easily overpower Stiles in such a way, “Please… Let me finish.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, and he’s still looking away. He seems even more unnerved at how close they are now.

“They aren’t entirely true because I have _never_ hated you,” at that, Derek chances a look at Stiles again, his gaze fearful at how fragile this situation makes him, and Stiles' heart _aches_ because of it, “You’ve been a dick, yes, but like you explained in your letter, you weren’t meaning to be.”

Stiles notices how Derek shuffles a bit on his feet. God, he’s completely botching this right now.

“I guess I was given the wrong impression of you this entire time,” Stiles admits, “but, your letter put things in perspective for me. And I hope this doesn’t seem dicky, but, I want to see if what you said is something you _meant._ ”

Derek doesn’t seem offended by that, and he nods, “It’s understandable… I could see why you’d not be entirely convinced.”

Stiles smiles softly, “Yeah… and getting my work was really sweet, by the way, so it was a good start, for sure… But I was thinking that maybe we could see where this goes?”

Derek’s eyes light up then, and a glimpse of hope crosses his features.

It nearly makes Stiles’ heart swell ten times its original size.

“You’d— you’d give me a chance?”

Stiles shrugs, smiling softly, “Yeah, I guess… I mean, Scott has been trying to convince me that you were interested since the beginning of the year. Actually, I think he’s always tried to convince me, but this year he really got an agenda. Which— _ohmygod_ you thought I was dating _Scott?”_

Derek doesn’t seem fazed whatsoever by Stiles’ rambling, but he does look a tad bit embarrassed, “You two are just something else. Everyone thought you two were mates for the longest time.”

“ _Mates!?”_ the omega croaks, and he has to shake his head to get himself back on track, “Wait— no. That’s not what we’re trying to talk about,” Stiles takes a deep breath, “So, uhm, aside from whatever that was, what I was saying is that— yes, I’m going to give you a chance.”

For a split second, Derek looks like he’s on top of the world, and then, his joyous expression falls, and he hesitates, “Why would you, though?”

“Because… I— I may think it goes both ways. It’s a recent development, though! Like, within the past week-ish!” he clarifies defensively, but Derek is still wide-eyed nonetheless, “So, I’d like to see how this works out before—“

Without warning Derek is surging forward, kissing Stiles with a small whine that sounds so small and wanting that— _jesus._

Stiles relaxes despite his initial shock, eyes slipping closed as he feels their lips slot together. He tries to mimic Derek as best he can — after all, this is his first kiss, so he’s highly inexperienced — while he learns how the alpha’s lips feel against his own.

They’re just about to get into using their tongues when the bell rings.

They pull apart, startled, and Stiles realizes then that he also needs to catch his breath.

“F-Fuck!” the omega curses, “We’re late!”

Derek snorts, and he pulls his phone out.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

“Texting Finstock.”

Stiles’ eyes narrow as he watches the alpha tap away at his cell’s screen, “What? Why?”

“Well, there are some benefits to being captain of the lacrosse team. I can ask him to write that we were on time, or, if you want,” Derek pauses, eying Stiles cautiously, “I can ask him to give us the entire period.”

Stiles’ eyes nearly bulge out of his skull then, “The _whole_ period!?”

Derek shrugs, seemingly uncaring, “I’ve done it before. He doesn’t really care, as long as I do well during practice and any games we’re having. So we’re fine if we want to skip,” the alpha stops then, gauging Stiles, “Unless you don’t want to…”

“It’s just… I’ve never skipped before. And… if we have the whole period, what would we do?”

At the question, Derek’s eyes get a hungry glint to them.

“Oh,” Stiles murmurs, cheeks flushing, “Uhm, I’d just want to go ahead and state that we’re starting this slow. Like pretty slow. Slow enough to where I can get an idea of where things are going. Slow enough to where a sloth is faster than our relationship. And I’m not talking about just right now specifically, but all of this in general. You and me. Stiles and Derek. The whole shebang. But, also, just so we’re clear about everything, I’m just going to go ahead and say I don’t want to be deflowered in the alpha’s locker room, either.”

Despite the initial seriousness Derek had, once Stiles is finished with, yet again, rambling, he ends up smiling and laughing, leaving Stiles to awkwardly grin back.

“No, I wasn’t planning on _that,_ ” the alpha clarifies, still chuckling, “but I’m glad you said something either way.”

“Get used to it, dude, because if there’s one thing I can do well, it’s run my mout—“

Derek silences him with another kiss.

 

 

**-xXx-**

So, they’re dating now.

Well, yes and _no,_ because Derek agreed that breaking the news out of the blue in any way would result in the lacrosse gang to more than likely have a shit fit of epic proportions.

“We’re gonna go public one day though,” Derek told Stiles as he laid across one of the bleachers in the gym, his eyes on Stiles as the omega sat a row above him, “Just… when it’s right.”

Stiles didn’t have any arguments.

If anything, he’d _always_ avoid getting bitched at by Jackson and the others for even just showing up at school. So yes, it’s safe to say that Stiles _undoubtedly_ wants to prevent the major meltdown that dating their lacrosse team captain would cause.

Of course, Scott was in on what was happening, and, of course, he was not shutting up about it.

“I _called_ it,” Scott says for the thousandth time, not even caring as Finstock passes out their quiz, “Stiles and Derek, sittin’ in a tree—“

Finstock shushed Scott, making Stiles chuckle and send a knowing look over to Derek, who peeked at him with a smile while he bubbled in his answers.

Otherwise, no one knew about Stiles and Derek.

The two enjoyed their privacy, and they would sneak around and have the stereotypical fun that most teenagers had while trying to remain under the radar.

Stiles would meet Derek up secretly after practice, and they’d get to make out in the Camaro once the parking lot was empty. Derek would use hall passes to see Stiles in specific places — the library, the bathroom — where they would talk without too many sets of eyes on them.

Stiles has been having a great time, and he’s beginning to see the person — the alpha — that Derek truly is.

Turns out, Derek can be rather clumsy at times, and can even fumble up his words. While he doesn’t do this around anyone else, he explains it’s just the effect Stiles has on him. But Derek is also kind, open-minded, supportive, humorous, and he is always so sweet to Stiles that the omega can feel himself falling further and further in—

In _love_ with Derek.

God, he doesn’t want to sound or seem sappy, but Derek has made him weak in the knees and heart-eyed just like any lovesick omega portrayed in sickening romance movies.

Normally, he would be embarrassed or have some words about such a thing— he should be stronger or more conscious than this, but Derek has made him so happy and filled with dopey hormones that Stiles can’t find it within himself to truly care.

“Something catch your eye, son?” his father asked him over his salad one night, “Or should I say someone?”

Stiles had to hide his smile as he kept displacing his tomatoes in his spinach, “Yeah…”

“When do I get to meet them?”

Stiles’ head shot up, his skin blanched, “Are— are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious,” his dad smiled then, “I’d like to meet the only person who’s ever gotten my son to look as though the angels are singing and Cupid’s already shot his arrow.”

“Oh, well,” Stiles fidgeted in his seat, “I’ll have to see if that’s something we can do.”

And that’s their current predicament: their parents.

Apparently Derek’s parents and family are also interested in meeting Stiles as well, which— yeah, no pressure there.

“We can just have dinner or something simple,” Stiles suggests over the phone as he finishes up a paper for his English class, “Preferably at our houses and nothing public, just in case.”

“ _Yeah, that would be best,_ ” the alpha agreed, and Stiles can hear him ruffle some papers on the end of his line, “ _I can ask my mom if she can fix our famous lasagna or something._ ”

Stiles smiles, “And I can tell my dad he can make burgers or whatever— just something that will make him more interested in cooking the food than grilling you.”

Derek sighs, and Stiles sits back in his chair, fully focusing on their conversation then, “ _I wish we didn’t have to run around everyone with us. I’d kind of like to get to take you out on dates, or even get to hold your hand in the hallways, at least._ ”

“Yeah,” Stiles murmurs, and such a prospect makes him blush, “While our parents are one thing, school is another. I’d rather just try and get through it with as little drama as possible.”

“ _I know, I know… I just hate that I’m having to treat you like a dirty, little secret. I mean, fuck what other people think, honestly, but I know that you don’t want to face all the backlash we’d get._ ”

“Backlash or not, I’m enjoying what we have, even if it’s on the down low for right now.”

Derek seems surprised, “ _You are?”_

“Yeah, of course,” Stiles grins at the small, audible breath of relief that comes from the other line, “I know it hasn’t been ideal and that it’s also been stressful with running around when no one’s watching, but you’re sweet and I’ve liked getting to know you, among other things. Because the kissing is nice. Like, _really_ nice.”

Derek growls softly, the sound both playful and a bit wanting, “ _Is that all you’ve liked?”_

A shrill of excitement travels down Stiles’ spine, coming to rest heatedly in his hips, “I mean, I’ve also liked it when you start grabbing my ass when we’re making out. That’s really nice too.”

The rumble that Stiles’ receives at that admission is nothing but hunger, “ _Oh yeah?”_

“Mhmm. And I think it’s amazing when you don’t mean to, but you start pressing in a bit with your fingers.”

There’s a light panting over the phone, and Stiles swallows, the movement tight as he lets his free hand slip into the back of his boxers.

“ _Shit,_ ” Derek breathes, voice strained, “ _Are we doing this?”_

Coyly, Stiles asks, “Doing what, Derek?”

“ _Phone sex._ ”

Stiles whimpers, his finger pressing against his slickening hole then, making Derek growl once more in response as Stiles jokes, “You’re late to the party, Der, I’ve already started.”

“ _Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”_ the alpha asks in a husky voice, and Stiles can hear the subtle, slick sounds of what must be his hand around his cock, “ _How are you touching yourself?_ ”

“Fingers,” Stiles pants, sinking them into the first knuckle and relishing the feeling with Derek’s rough breathing against his ear.

Derek curses, “ _Shit! I thought we were taking this slow, Stiles— like, is this alright?”_

The omega cuts off a whimper as he gets to the second knuckle, “I— I would say phone sex is pretty slow for a hormone-ravaged alpha omega pair. Besides, I may have already fingered myself to the thought of you, so it would be a bit late to try and apply the brakes.”

Something big falls over on Derek’s end of the line, the crash being followed up with a hungry and disbelieving whisper of, “ _You **what**?”_

“During my heat,” Stiles pants, now three knuckles deep, his fingertips brazenly stroking his insides as he breathes hotly against his cellphone's screen, “I told you, in the locker room w-when this all started, that I had just started feeling the same way… I was talking about my heat, Der. I imagined you during my heat.”

“ _Jesusfuckingchrist,_ ” Derek hisses out, and Stiles is undoubtedly hearing the alpha stroking himself fervently, “Do you know how hot that is?”

“Yeah, because I came to that I don’t know how many times,” Stiles pauses to let another growl pass, and for his fingers to pass along his prostate.

At the omega’ s soft whine, Derek grits out, “ _Stiles, you’re fucking shameless, aren’t you?_ ”

“Ever since I gave in and touched myself at the thought of you? Yeah. So how about you help me out here and get me to come again.”

Stiles and Derek don’t last too much longer after that, sharing a few more dirty and lewd lines before Stiles rides down onto his fingers with a muffled cry, and Derek follows soon thereafter.

Stiles’ afterglow makes him purr, the noise soft and sweet as he can hear a reciprocating rumble from his cell.

The omega is content, eyes half-lidded as he murmurs, “That was great. Ten out of ten would call again.”

And with a small chuckle, Derek breathes out, “ _I really hope you do._ ”

 

 

**-xXx-**

Stiles fiddles with his phone, leg jumping up and down in a blur as he checks the clock on his phone for the nth time.

“Stiles, it’s gonna be alright,” the sheriff sets a reassuring hand on his son’s shoulder, “I promise that I won’t threaten him too much.”

“ _Dad,_ ” Stiles groans, “Please don’t.”

The sheriff chuckled then, “Stiles, I’m only joking. But, do let Derek know that if he breaks your heart, I may consider breaking a few laws in response.”

“Who knew that to turn you into a bad cop, all you would need is a brokenhearted son.”

The sheriff shrugs, “I’m a father before an officer, always.”

Derek arrives not too long after Stiles' conversation with his father, and he is standing on their porch — hair gelled in a way that seems more formal compared to his usual spiky style, and in casual formal attire — looking like he’s about to piss himself.

“F-For you,” Derek stutters out, handing Stiles a smaller bouquet of assorted flowers, “I hope you like them.”

“They’re very nice, thank you,” Stiles says, taking the flowers from the alpha right as his father clears his throat behind the one, “So uhm, Derek,” Stiles steps aside from the doorway, “this is my dad. Who is also the sheriff. So there's that out of the way, at least.”

Derek shuffles awkwardly on the porch, and he looks so nervous that Stiles doesn’t envy him for having to hear all the speeches and vague threats his father will undoubtedly send the alpha's way.

“Come on in, son,” Stiles' father says, and Stiles grips Derek’s bouquet a little tighter as the alpha enters.

They settle around the table easily, and both Derek and the sheriff sit as Stiles goes around to divvy out their dinner.

“So,” the sheriff starts as Stiles begins with the mac and cheese, “the infamous Derek Hale. You’re the alpha my son has been gushing about.”

Stiles blushes a bit, and doesn’t miss the small smile Derek has before he schools it back, “Yes, sir. I am.”

“Care to tell me a bit about yourself?”

“Well, I’m the captain of the lacrosse team,” Derek starts, “After that, I’m some honors classes. Otherwise, there’s not much else.”

The sheriff nods as Stiles scoops some food onto Derek’s plate, “You make good grades?”

“All A's and B', sir. Coach Finstock would bench me otherwise.”

“You drove yourself here— what car do you own?”

Derek grins, “A black 2013 Chevrolet Camaro.”

The sheriff whistles, “Nice wheels. I’m guessing that says somethin' about you when your parents trust you with a car that nice.”

“Hey!” Stiles blurts, frowning, “Are you saying you don’t trust me because I have Roscoe?”

“Stiles, you are accident prone and have ADHD. We had to keep you on training wheels till you were ten for a reason.”

Stiles flushes a deep shade of scarlet as he hears Derek snicker across the room.

“ _Dad!”_

“Hey, it isn’t a dinner with your boyfriend if something embarrassing isn’t revealed.”

Stiles grumbles something under his breath, but puts some mashed potatoes on his father’s plate nonetheless.

“What are your plans for college?”

Stiles then starts to put food on his plate as Derek gets a forkful of his own, “I was planning on attending BHU. They’ve given me some decent scholarships for lacrosse and whatnot. Not sure what degree I want to aim for yet, so I was going to apply and start with the general studies programs to figure it out from there.”

“Remember, your major changes like the tide, so don’t worry if something feels right one moment, and then wrong the next. But when you find something you really want and is right for you— “ Stiles looks up then, and notices how Derek eyes him softly from his place at their table, “you’ll know it.”

“Yeah,” Derek murmurs quietly, and Stiles’ heart flutters ever so lightly, “you do.”

 

 

**-xXx-**

The rest of dinner went along smoothly, and much to Stiles' surprise, his father was true to his word and didn’t threaten Derek.

Well, much. There was a little berating and warning thrown into the conversation, but that is to be expected, so Stiles isn’t complaining.

“Tonight was nice,” Stiles says, walking with Derek to his car, “we should do this again. Soon.”

“Yeah, I enjoyed myself too,” Derek grins, unlocking the Camaro's driver side door and opening it enough to where he can rest some of his weight there, “Maybe next time you can come over to my house though. Give you some of that lasagna I’ve been promising.”

Stiles chuckles, “I’d like that very much.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk too long— your father is watching us through the blinds right now.”

Stiles glances over to the front of his house right as the blinds sway back into place.

“Yeah, I can understand that. While he’s been good, I’m not sure how far his graces extend.”

Stiles thinks they are going to part without much other than a goodbye — especially with his father lingering over their shoulders — but much to his surprise, he finds Derek giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

There isn’t anything inherently sexual about it, just the soft press of lips to his skin, leaving just enough warmth to where the summer air outside feels cool once Derek pulls away.

“Goodnight, Stiles. See you tomorrow at school?”

Stiles presses a few fingers against his cheek, feeling doozy despite them already having their first kiss, “Y-Yeah. Goodnight, Derek.”

Derek shoots the omega a soft smile, and gets into his Camaro promptly.

Stiles watches from where he stands on his driveway as Derek drives away, the Camaro's taillights fading into the distance until all Stiles is staring at is his vacant street, fingertips tingling against his skin.

Eventually, when the cries of cicadas knock him out of his reverie, and he goes up the steps of his porch.

As he enters, his father is leaning against a wall in the kitchen, arms crossed with a definite smirk stretching his lips, “Oh, you are just _smitten_ with him, aren’t you?”

The skin that Derek kissed burns with blush as Stiles shuts the door, murmuring, “Ugh, I know, shut up.”

 

 

**-xXx-**

Stiles knows that he and Derek are dancing on a fine line when it comes to hiding their relationship.

While most seem oblivious to what they are keeping from being known, there have been a few close calls and moments to where Stiles feels on edge about being discovered.

Today is one of those times, because Jackson has decided to watch Stiles like a hawk today. Sure, he’s stared at Stiles before, has glared his way, but this time, Stiles can see the single cog in Jackson’s skull trying to clang to some sort of realization.

Derek has seemingly caught on too, enough so that the alpha doesn’t chance to look up from his desk like Stiles does.

Whatever, if Jackson makes a fuss about it, Stiles can at least say it’s because he felt a pair of eyes on him, not because he was trying to look at Derek initially like they usually do.

But while first period passes without incident, throughout the rest of the day, Stiles begins to notice that Jackson isn't the only one keeping tabs.

In fact, the rest of the lacrosse gang is watching him constantly, like he’s got a detail put on him.

He turns a corner— boom, there’s one of them, leaning against the locker. He goes to the bathroom— one is washing their hands or leaning against the wall opposite of the stalls.

And because of seeing them consistently, Stiles doesn't see Derek that day, and he feels a but downtrodden when he reads a text on his phone during the remnants of his last period for the day.

_Too risky to meet up after practice today. Just get in your Jeep and go home. Please, don't try anything._

Stiles swallows thickly, typing, **Did you know that they were doing this?**

It’s about three minutes till the dismissal bell rings when Stiles’ phone vibrates with the alpha's reply, _Honestly, no. I usually know what they’re up to because they let me in on it, but they’ve obviously kept me out of the loop on this one. I’m sorry this is happening, Stiles._

**You don’t have to apologize, it’s not your fault. I was just wondering if you knew anything or not about your lacrosse stooges... I guess we’re gonna have to be even more careful from now on.**

_You seem upset. Are you alright?_

Stiles sighs, **I’m not happy, no. I’ve dealt with them all day, dude. They’ve literally been following me everywhere like stalkers. I couldn’t even piss in peace.**

The bell rings, and Stiles gets Derek's reply as he leaves the classroom, _I want to chew their asses out, but I don’t know if that will help any. It would probably make it worse._

**It probably won’t. They’re already getting an inkling that something’s been happening between us, and it probably would only make it certain for them if you went all alpha on them for following me. I mean, in a way, it’s a typical alpha behavior known as “mine.”**

_I just wish there was something I could do to get them to leave you alone for once. I’ve never understood why they were assholes to you, honestly._

**Maybe they thought you were mean to me and so they followed by example? Sorry if that sounded shitty but they are literally such kiss asses to you. They probably thought they were making you happy or something. That, and Jackson is just a pure asshole, through and through, so it wouldn’t matter with him anyways.**

Stiles exits through the double doors, stepping outside finally as he makes his way to Roscoe, _Jesus. That makes a lot of sense. Too much sense. I’m so sorry, Stiles. If I had known that they were doing this to you all this time just to impress me or whatever, I would’ve done something before now. Shit, no. I should’ve already done something. I’m sorry, again. Fuck.  
And you’re right, Jackson is a twat at heart._

The last bit makes Stiles snicker, **I’m glad you agree. But it’s alright. I mean, you thought I hated you at the time, and truthfully, if you said anything to the goons, they probably wouldn’t have listened anyways. I’m pretty sure they’re gonna give us shit no matter what.**

_Yeah, you’re right. I’m just sorry this is happening. I mean, I am friends with the people who’ve given you shit through high school, and we’re dating under the radar so we don’t have to hear them bitch. That’s messed up, don’t you think?_

**We aren’t the only ones who’ve had to keep things under wraps when it comes to their relationship because others won’t like the news. Besides, you’re on the lacrosse team, and you’re their captain. It’s kind of bound to happen, since you’re teammates. Like what are you going to do to address that, quit the lacrosse team?**

Stiles unlocks Roscoe and gets into the driver’s seat, pausing before putting his key into the ignition as his phone vibrates with another text from Derek.

_Holy shit, Stiles! You’re a genius!_

That makes Stiles’ brows furrow, and he quickly types back, **Wait, Derek, are you doing what I think you’re doing???**

Stiles waits a moment, hoping there is a reply from the alpha incoming within the next second, but a second turns into a minute, and then ten have passed.

Stiles sighs, and decides that he’ll at least wait for the reply at home, rather than the parking lot where Jackson and the others are surely spying on him.

Besides, if Derek _is_ doing what Stiles is thinking he’s doing, he definitely doesn’t want to be around for that shit show.

 

 

**-xXx-**

_I quit lacrosse._

Stiles nearly chokes on his spoonful of cereal, and he quickly scrambles to get his reply out.

**DEREK!!! PLAYOFFS ARE LEGIT A WEEK AWAY!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING????**

_You matter more to me than that game ever will, especially when it comes to the douchebags who also happen to be on the home team. While Finstock is far from happy, and I’m sure the others will be too, I truthfully can’t find it within myself to care about what they think or feel._

**DEREK. You have SCHOLARSHIPS bc of lacrosse!!! You shouldn’t have to quit over what I think or feel when you’re putting pretty much your entire future on the line!!!**

_You’re my future, Stiles. I mean, I know it’s kind of early to say this, but, I want to be in this for the long run. Past high school, into college, past that too. I don’t know if saying that will scare you off, to be honest, I can see why you would be because of that, but I have to explain why the scholarships, lacrosse, whatever-- it doesn’t matter compared to you. I’ve always cared about you and loved you from afar, and I’ve gotten lucky enough for our relationship to actually become a reality after thinking I had ruined everything irreparably with you. Do you think I’m going to let something like that stop me when it comes to my mate?_

Stiles blinks, rereads the sentence, and decides he needs to run his eyes fervently, because there is _no possible way_ he read that right.

Another text rattles his phone.

_Yes. I used the m-word. Consciously._

In all truth, Stiles thinks that he would probably handle “marriage” better than “mates,” but now it’s sinking in— which of the two was pixelated onto his phone screen.

_Mates?_

And Derek was being _serious_ them being such?

_Stiles, please answer me._

Surely Derek was mistaken. Sure, they’ve been great together so far. Stiles is enjoying their relationship and being with Derek — and, in general, just simply enjoying Derek — but Stiles isn’t _mate_ material.

With someone like Derek? No way.

_Stiles, please. I’m starting to think you’re actually going to file for a legitimate restraining order._

Stiles isn’t good enough for that.

Derek just hasn’t been dating him long enough to see that.

_Wait that sounded really stupid and weird but so was the mate thing I’m sorry Stiles please I’m freaking out right now I know I messed up by saying this but please I just wanted you to understand_

In an almost shock-like state, Stiles picks his phone up, and slowly types out.

**I’m your mate?**

The reply is almost instantaneous.

_Jesus, Stiles, you scared me. I was starting to think I scared YOU off. But… to answer your question, yeah… I’ve kind of known, the whole time._

Stiles frowns at that.

**Why didn’t you tell me????**

_For the longest time we weren’t on good terms, so there’s that… I mean, I thought you hated me and that you were also dating Scott, who I thought was your mate. It wasn’t until this year things changed, and you decided to give me a chance that day in the locker room. But, you told me you wanted to go slow… so I thought it would best be kept to myself, so I didn’t freak you out and run you off right from the start… Does it make more sense?_

**Yes, but… Why now?**

_You asked me about my future, and why I seemingly gave it all up for you. It felt like the right time to explain it, even if the situation and circumstances haven’t been ideal… I just don’t want to lose you over something so petty, Stiles._

At that, the omega frowns, **Your future isn’t petty.**

_No, it’s not. But the drama from lacrosse and the team is, and I’m not going to let them get it to seep into us too._

Stiles takes a moment then, letting Derek’s words sink in a little more.

So apparently Stiles was his mate, which in all honesty, doesn’t seem to make sense.

I mean, he’s Stiles. Derek’s lacrosse buddies — actually, _former_ lacrosse buddies, now — hated on Stiles constantly, saying that he was going to be forever alone. Even those who didn’t really pay attention to him, but were aware of him just enough, would say that he would most likely spend his days alone, and would never be able to find a mate willing to put up with him.

And the sad part is, Stiles understood why that was said about him.

He just wonders if Derek gets it too, or is just oblivious as his former lacrosse gang who said as much.

**I’m guessing that offer of lasagna is going to have to wait, isn’t it?**

Stiles isn’t mad, well, with Derek, really. He doesn’t want to be, at least, but feelings don’t always get the memo, and you feel shit anyways despite your best intentions.

So Stiles takes a deep breath— telling himself that this is as much Derek’s fault as it is his own. He doesn’t need to be petty just like Derek is trying to avoid. He tries to will away his upset, because this is just going to be par for the course, considering who Derek used to run with.

Before Derek can send a reply, Stiles texts a quick message before he heads upstairs.

**Hey, I need some space right now. I’m not angry or upset with you, I just need some time to myself to work some things out.**

He adds a couple of heart emojis, just so Derek knows that things aren’t dire, and it isn’t like he’s about to have a panic or something, and he presses send.

Stiles’ phone is left on the bathroom counter as he starts the water up in his shower, and he pays no attention to it as steam begins to gather in the air and as he slips his clothes off of himself.

The hot water is soothing, and it helps relieve the tension in Stiles' muscles as he works his body wash over his shoulders, enjoying the feeling of everything being washed away in water and bubbles. His fingers quickly lather his hair as well, working his shampoo into his locks and letting it also wash away.

In the end, the omega steps out of the shower feeling lighter, and he quickly dries himself off.

He loosely wraps his towel around his waist, and steps out of his bathroom. Without pause, Stiles walks straight to his dresser, and drops the towel as he moves to get a pair of clean boxers.

“Oh my God—“

Stiles screams then, no doubt about it, and he turns to see the source of that familiar, strained voice, only to come face to face with a flushed Derek Hale.

“ _Derek!”_

Derek takes a second to register anything as he stares at Stiles in all his naked glory, but then, he seems to remember himself finally, and averts his eyes.

“R-Right! I’m sorry!”

Stiles rushes to gather his towel again, boxers now abandoned, and he quickly gathers the plush, orange towel against his privates in mortification.

And also, maybe a little bit of arousal.

“How did you get in here!?”

Derek stares at the floor, and he moves his foot around a little in nervousness, hand stuffed tightly into his pockets, “The window…”

“You—“ Stiles looks to where his curtains flap lightly from the evening breeze outside, something they weren’t doing when he went to take his shower, “You climbed through my _window!?”_

“I climbed up to _get_ to your window,” Derek corrects softly, “But yeah, I didn’t use the door…”

Stiles blinks, eyes still wide and heart hammering, “Why!?”

“You weren’t answering your phone— “

“Because I told you I needed a moment!”

“and I thought you were angry with me.”

Throwing his hands up into the air, Stiles yells exasperatedly, “I told you I wasn’t!”

Derek looks tiny then, and rather unsure himself, “I know, but… with all that was going on, and your texts… I was nervous because I told you about how you are my mate. And our entire awareness of each other before you confronted me about my letter wasn’t positive, especially in your perspective.”

“My _perspective?”_

Derek is stricken then, and he looks up at Stiles in all seriousness, despite the omega's state of utter undress and a fucking orange towel covering his crotch, “You thought I was a jerk. And you know what, I am. But I have never done anything specifically just to hurt you and make you angry, and if I have done that, then I’m sorry. I’m sorry that my dickhole friends don’t like you just because they can. I’m sorry that we have to run around in secret because no one can know we’re together. I’m sorry for all of that and because I feel like I can’t be the alpha n mate you deserve.”

Stiles blinks, and he looks at Derek in shock, “What? . . .”

“You are so amazing, Stiles,” Derek starts, and the alpha steps closer then, “You’re one of the only omegas I've ever known who stands up despite being told you never could. You’re one of the only people who’s looked at everything around them and said fuck it— you would rather be you than everyone like me who created fallacies of themselves to fit in,” Derek cups Stiles' face, murmuring, “I have always loved you, always known that you were mine. My omega, my mate. But I have never once felt or thought that I deserved you."

Stiles stares at Derek, his eyes searching the alpha's own, “Derek?”

“I am a jerk, that you are right about. You should hate me. You should want _nothing_ to do with me. To this day I have no idea why you ever gave me a chance, because even now, I still don’t think or feel like I deserve any of this.”

Stiles swallows, and Derek looks at him like, underneath the surface, he’s falling apart.

Softly, Stiles asks, “Are you breaking up with me?”

Derek’s expression changes into one of confusion and shock, “What? No, no— I’m not breaking you with you, Stiles. I’m just trying to tell you that… I don’t want to lose this… while I don’t feel or think I deserve this, deserve you, I want to prove myself. I want to show you that I’m serious when I say that I’ve always cared and that I know you are my mate. I want to be that person in your life, Stiles. I want to do anything to be that. And with all this shit going on around us, having to keep us secret, the lacrosse douches getting in the way, I can’t put into words how much it worries me that you’ll get driven away. That if I don’t do the right things to right this, then I’ll lose you forever. And that scares me more than anything…”

Stiles' heart breaks a little then, and quietly, he murmurs, “It scares me more than anything, too.”

It’s Derek’s turn to fall silent, and he looks at Stiles with his brows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“You’re not the only one who feels like they are undeserving of the other,” Stiles admits, and he lets the towel fall away from himself as he places his palms against Derek’s chest, and the alpha rumbles softly, “I don’t think that it’s a secret by now that I don’t think too highly of myself. It goes with the territory of being the renowned annoying omega of BHS. And at first, I was curious, because after your letter and, well, my heat, I was getting to see a new side of you I wanted to see. But earlier, when you said you were my mate, I just felt— felt like I wasn’t good enough for that.”

Derek frowns at the admission.

“I’m just— have you seen you? There are countless omegas in the school who wouldn’t care if you were the biggest jerk ever, because you’re hot and popular and just everything I could never be when it comes to the high school pinnacle,” Stiles smiles, “I mean, look at me, I’m nothing to bat an eye at.”

Derek growls then, the rumble sounding hungry, “I would argue against that vehemently.”

“Would you?”

Derek’s eyes flash red, “Yes— but fuck, no, we’re having a serious discussion right now—“

Stiles laughs then, “It’s alright. But you get it now, I guess, and I do too.”

“It’s all just a mess,” Derek presses their foreheads together, “but it’s alright, because we’ve got each other to get through it.”

Stiles grins, “Yeah, we do.”

Derek grins back, and hums for a moment, “Well, if you’re interested… my mom is making lasagna tonight.”

Stiles' eyes light up, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Derek grins, “but, you will have to get dressed first.”

Stiles then remembers himself, blushing, “Oh, right…”

“Trust me, I’m more disappointed about you getting dressed than anything else.”

Stiles snorts and rolls his eyes, parting from Derek to get his boxers finally, “I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

“Later?”

Stiles turns and sees Derek tilting his head.

“Yeah, later. 'Cause you also aren’t the only one who wants this to continue. Because, honestly, I’m head over heels for you, dude. My dad’s teasing has been relentless. So yeah, I like you, a lot. Some may even say love, at this point. So being your mate?” the omega grins, “That’s something I’m definitely down for.”

And before Stiles can do anything else, Derek is kissing him like that day in the locker room.

They make out for a few moments, and Stiles grins against Derek’s lips as the alpha fondles his bare ass.

When they part, short of breath, Stiles chuckles, “Glad my dad isn’t coming back till late.”

Derek's eyes light up, “Oh really?”

“Yeah,” Stiles teases, “and you know that makes time for?”

The alpha rumbles, “What?”

And the omega laughs, finally slipping his boxers on, “Lasagna.”

The alpha pouts for a second, but relents, even laughing as he has to help Stiles get unstuck from his shirt so they can actually get to dinner.

“You know, I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted this to last,” Derek says once Stiles’ head is freed from the collar of his tee.

“Yeah, me either,” Stiles breathes, then resolves himself, “And you know what?”

Derek tilts his head, “What?”

“Tomorrow. We should tell everyone. About us,” Stiles starts, and Derek’s eyes go wide, “If we don’t want our relationship to end because of others, we should just be frank with them. You and I, we’re together. That’s how it’s going to be. And if they have a problem with it, they can shut the fuck up and let us be. Because we shouldn’t let the opinions of others get between us, especially if we’re having to keep ourselves a secret because of them.”

Derek grins, and then hugs Stiles, “You’re right... I don’t have to wait for a perfect moment to tell others when I already found the perfect person.”

Stiles grins into Derek’s shoulder, “I couldn’t agree any more.”

 

 

**-xXx-**

“You were right, your mother’s lasagna is perfection,” Stiles groans as he takes another bite, “It’s like, my favorite thing.”

Derek chuckles as he stands beside Stiles, waiting for the one to actually _move_ away from the pan of food, “I know it is. You haven’t shut up about it ever since you had it at my house for the first time.”

“It was a religious experience in the form of marinara and cheese, dude,” Stiles gushes as he scoops some more lasagna onto his plate, “I have to give it some praise.”

“Well, it would be nice if you’d give some of the lasagnas for other people,” the alpha laughs as he chastises the one softly, “My mother made this for our graduation party, not just for you.”

Stiles pouts at that, finally stepping aside and making a longing face at the dish as Derek gets his own portion, “Oh, how I wish she did.”

Derek rolls his eyes fondly as they both face at the mass of people — from the lacrosse team (who still are awkward about everything) and others from school, to their families — gathered at their conjoined celebration.

“Can you believe we worried that this would end us?” Derek asks, and he looks over to see where Stiles has stopped hounding down his mother’s lasagna.

Stiles swallows, trying to gather himself to talk as he wipes the globs of marina sauce away from his mouth, “Yeah, kind of dumb when you think about it.”

“I wouldn’t say dumb, but just— kid drama.”

Stiles makes a 'psh' noise with his mouth, “I can’t believe it, we graduated today and you’re already talking like we’ve got degrees and are choosing our nursing home.”

The alpha laughs heartedly at that, “Yeah, I guess I am. But looking back on it, now that everything is over and we’re moving on… it doesn’t seem as bad as it once was.”

“Well, retrospect or not, I’m glad we toughed it out, big guy. It was worth it.”

Stiles leans on Derek then, feeling complete and content in a way he can’t quite describe— his alpha by his side, delicious food in his stomach, and them both being surrounded by people who care about them and, despite some even feeling otherwise at first, who wish them the best now that it’s obvious the two are in this together.

It isn’t describable, no, but it isn’t terrible, either.

Derek grins then, because Stiles can tell the alpha is feeling the same way as he smiles reverently down at his omega like he was worth all the trouble and more, “Yeah, it was."

**Author's Note:**

> ##### Prompt me here:
> 
> http://sunshinexlollipops.tumblr.com/promptask
> 
> And sorry, I'm not listing music as I have bc that's too much for me RN, rip.


End file.
